


As a friend, as an old enemy

by FreudianFlip



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU when they left together before Mizumono, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Will is OCish as heck but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 15:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5211779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreudianFlip/pseuds/FreudianFlip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Occasionally, I drop a teacup to shatter on the floor on purpose. I’m not satisfied when it doesn’t gather itself up again. Someday, perhaps, that cup will come together.”</p><p>2nd season. An AU where Will realizes he needs to fix his mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As a friend, as an old enemy

Life was escaping Will, together with his blood. His guts were spilling out as he tried to push them back in, but to no avail. It reminded him of pulling too much of wet tissues from a box and trying to tuck them back, but, mysteriously, there was no place for them anymore.

His other hand was tightly holding Abigail’s neck; her blood, dark and thick, was spurting from between his fingers. He heard her, little twitchy sounds, wet half-sobs he himself was making. He thought of Alana, making the same sounds as she laid broken in the pool of smashed glass, rain and her own blood. He thought about Jack, locked in the pantry if the bloodstains he saw were anything to judge by. They were all dying together yet apart.

And it was all his fault.

Please, was his last lucid thought. Please, come back.

\--

Will realized he was staring at white ceiling.

His eyes were open. He blinked and noticed that the tiny click was drowned out by some steady hum from around him. He slowly felt feeling returning to his body, although it felt weird. It felt like his body was filled with gauze, warm and weak. He strained his eyes, trying to look around and not move his head. He was afraid that if he moved it, something would broke. There were tubes in his nose and throat and his breathing sounded like Darth Vader’s. A soft, steady whisper of air that could lull him back to sleep if he wasn’t careful.

He was in an empty hospital room, hooked to various machines. The room was too hot and he vaguely felt sweat pooling under his legs and back. Well, at least he could feel that.

Breathing steadily and steeling himself he slowly lifted his right hand and extended it towards the red button placed on the side of the bed to call the nurse.

\--

‘Mr Graham’

‘Tell me how is she’ Will breathed out, erupting into a coughing fit. His voice was scratchy from having not used it for so long. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the nurse and the doctor exchange glances. He felt sick to his stomach.

‘I’m sorry to inform you Abigail Hobbes died last night. Her funeral…’

Will closed his eyes and let the darkness consume him.

\--

When he opened them again, he was staring at something black. It moved and Will realized it was someone’s back, clad in black coat. The person stepped to the side, revealing the scene of burial. The casket with Abigail was being slowly lowered into the frozen ground. Priest’s voice, a low, pitiful monotone was piercing into his ears. Ravens were screaming. His ears were burning with the cold. There was feminine sobbing next to him, from the level of his waist. Will looked down.

Alana. Alana was in a wheelchair.

He laid his hand, pale from cold, on her dark locks and she sobbed even louder. He looked around. The whole landscape was black and white, the sky and the ground, the snow and the mourners. Abigail wouldn’t like to be here, he thought. She wouldn’t care for it. She would prefer to be in the forest, hunting, blue eyes tracking the doe, small, clean hands clutching the gun. Abigail didn’t have blood on her fingers. or by the river, fishing with him, her laughter going long way over the water, silver fish splashing them with drops of water and light. She didn’t have blood on her hands when she was in Dr Lecter’s study, reading his books about psychology…

‘No.’ said Will. There was a man in front of him.

‘No? Then I’ll introduce myself. I’m Clark Jenkins, FBI Central Department. I’d like to offer, on behalf on the whole Bureau, my sincerest gratitude for what you did, Mr. Graham. It was truly admirable to…’

Will looked around. The funeral was over, people were going home.  Alana was nowhere to be seen. The man who was talking to him had thinning mousy hair and impossibly regular teeth. Two agents were standing behind him, pretending not to stare at Will.

‘Where is Jack?’ Will said, interrupting the man. He watched his face for reaction, and he really didn’t need the words to confirm it.

He walked away, his mind empty save from the black hole that sucked all light from the world.

\--

Will was driving.

Hannibal played classical music in his car. Will looked at his radio. There was a hole where it should be. Did he even have a radio in the first place? He couldn’t seem to remember.

He drove his way to Wolf’s Trap from memory, except that he didn’t. There was nothing, empty white spot after the familiar turn, driveway buried under snow.

Will buried his face in his hands. He was too tired to inquire, search, organize. He just backed up, turned on the road, drove back to hospital, and took the whole route again. Around him, there was nothing but deadly silence. Will realized that no car passed him in his way. As he thought that, a black Navara speeded past him in the opposite direction. Will looked at its rear end in his mirror. Another car passed him. It was green. Will craned his head to look at it. It was black. He didn’t manage to turn his head back on time when he drove over a small dent. His left front wheel was dented. He kept going. He thought he would have to stop at a gas station to change the tire. He kept going. The road was a shiny black belt stretching over planes of white. It was slowly narrowing, almost imperceptibly so, but with each blink, the black belt was thinner, as were the two white lines on its sides. Then he realized that there was another road on the left and right of this. And anothers. An endless way of thin white, wider black, thin white, wider black. The road was at a bizarre angle. Will’s eyes came back into focus as he was staring at the sleeve of his pinstriped coat from a close distance. His cheek was laying on his forearm. His hand still gripped the wheel. He fell asleep.

There was a knock on the window and Will jumped. Jack’s face floated into his view. He closed his eyes, squeezed them with his fingers and opened them again. Pale face with washed out features was grinning at him from the darkness. It was Price. He heard barking. He got out of the car and saw another figure lounging near his porch.

The dogs attacked his feet, howling and yelping in joy. Price laughed. Zeller turned around to face him and began walking towards him. He is going to hit me, Will thought. A cold arm, clad in black wool, wrapped around his shoulders. Will closed his eyes and opened them again to look at Zeller in a different light. They were inside now. He felt the heaviness of dogs at his feet and bend down to pet them, effectively knocking the tray with hot tea from his lap. He felt warmth on his leg and for a moment he was there again, his own rich blood wetting and warming his thigh, sickly wet slickness between his fingers.

‘Will?’ he realized he was clutching a wet rag Zeller pressed in his hand. Zeller kept talking, but Will heard him like he was underwater. Dog food. Stacked your fridge. Change your bandages. Alana. Tomorrow.

‘Get some sleep, Will’ Price said clearly, as if right next to his ear, but when Will turned his head, he was alone and it was dark outside. He slowly got up, went to the fridge and took notice. Boxes with food. He chose something that looked like meatloaf and started eating it cold, standing in the kitchen. He put his hand to his forehead. There was Mason’s Verger’s nose in his meatloaf. He hurled the container across the kitchen, away from himself.

I’m losing time again, he thought. It must be encephalitis again. Or I’m really losing my mind, this time. Either way I need a brain scan.

\--

‘Thank you Mr Graham, it’s all’ the voice said to him and he was wheeled out of the MRI machine. He followed the technician, who was explaining to him that his results would be send to him next week. They were now in the technician’s office and Will’s breath hitched. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood over the console. He would mess with his results again. Will rushed towards the man, took him by his shoulder and forcefully turned him around.

‘Er… Mr Graham?’ the technician asked, confused blue eyes looking at him. Will let go of his arm. He could swear on his life his eyes were maroon when he talked to him before the exam. Will closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He realized he was sitting.

He opened his eyes to a breakfast table and Alana in front of him. She was looking at him questioningly, like she was waiting for an answer.

Only she wasn’t Alana, Hannibal was sitting across from him, smiling through the wafts of steam from their breakfast. Will swallowed and offered an uncertain smile.

‘…and I have physical therapy every day from Monday to Friday, but it’s necessary, I plan on going back to teaching as soon as I can. I also started seeing a counsellor…’

Will realized someone was watching him and turned his head to face Chilton, looking at him with an angry red scar on his cheek. His face was devoid of emotion as he chewed and swallowed the omelet. Will looked down at his own plate. There was no omelet. There were human ears, baked and served with orange slices. There was a glass of wine next to his plate. Will looked again. His plate was clear and there was a glass of orange juice. He jumped to his feet and felt like he forgot about something. My scar, he thought, and right then the pain from the scar hit him. Alana and Chilton looked at him questioningly.

‘I need to check my tire’ he declared and run in the general direction of the door. He speed through the corridor, opened another door and found himself in a walk-in closet. He blinked. He reached out a hand, took one item and examined it. It was a checkered black and red suit from rich wool. It smelled like incense, cloves and parsley. He was in Hannibal’s house.

‘He left it all, you know’ Zeller’s voice reached him. They were in Hannibal’s bedroom. Price was sitting on a king bed, leafing through small leather-clad journal. Will walked over to him and plucked it from his hands. The messy scrawl inside was nothing like Hannibal’s perfect cursive. ‘Vet appointment, 1am’, he read. ‘Brian’s birthday - remember’.

‘It’s my calendar’ Price said.

‘Sorry’ said Will, giving it back to him. He turned to Zeller. ‘Did I have a flat tire when I drove home from the hospital for the first time?’

Zeller looked at him like he grew a second head.

‘And why would I know _that_?’ asked Kade Purnell.

‘You surely keeping track of him’

‘The problem is that we don’t, Mr Graham, and it’s largely thanks to your contribution. He had the time to prepare everything and flee. Your help was invaluable. Now I don’t want to know about you intimate relations, but I have to say, Mr Graham, that what you did for him caused lives of your friends and this girl, and this is simply…’

‘Enough’ an even voice said and shiny tops of shoes came into his view, then dress pants and suit jacket. Miriam Lass was standing above him, arms folded on her chest. Her golden badge caught light over her right palm. ‘Agent Purnell, I demand you refrain from harassing Mr Graham. Now please leave. Will. We have unconfirmed information about Lecter being seen in Italy’

Will closed his eyes. Santa Croce. How much money did he have on his bank account?

_Please fasten your seatbelts._

He called Zeller.

‘Zeller’ he said. ‘I’ll need you to take care of my dogs’

‘Wait, Will, don’t do anything stupid’

‘No. You don’t understand. I’m on a plane.’

‘Will, no. Don’t go catching him yourself. He will…’

Beep. The signal was gone.

 

Somewhere there, thin lips blew out a candle and a wisp of smoke marred the darkness.

 

Will stepped into the church, illuminated by the sun. There was a familiar silhouette sitting in one of the front benches. Will went over and sat next to him.

‘I can’t forgive you. But more than you, I can’t forgive myself.’

Hannibal turned his head to look at him, warm glow from his fireplace lighting his eyes. The paper was burning and crinkling. Will belatedly realized he sat on the painting on Achilles and Patroclus and probably wrinkled it beyond repair.

‘Do you understand now?’ Hannibal asked, his face terribly solemn.

‘Yes’ Will whispered and closed his eyes. Around them, a soprano weaved its thread in _Requiem Aeternam_.

A woman was crying out from the room across the hall, high, animalistic sound of distress. Will looked down. He was still attached to drips and machines. Someone was holding his hand. Hannibal, asleep in chair next to his bed. Will took the hand and turned it in his, noticing how dainty it was and how the nails were painted red. Alana dozed off in her wheelchair, her purse on his nighttable. He only needed one item.

He locked himself in the bathroom and looked at himself the last time, before the cold, dry metal stuck to the inside of his lips. His breath sounded muffled, lips closed around the gun. He looked at himself for few seconds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bang.

\--

Everything fell at him at once as he was pulled above the surface. Not enough air. Beeping. Something heavy on his chest. Light, so much light.

‘Will! Can you hear me? Will!’

Footsteps, alarm, his own breath. Hannibal’s voice.

Not again, Will thought. Not this time.

The tubing was pulled painfully from his throat and the first gulp of stale hospital air was like clear water. Hannibal helped arrange him on pillows and brought a cup of water to his lips, cupping his face with the other hand.

Will wanted to talk to him first, but he drank the whole cup involuntarily.

‘Hannibal. I have to talk to you. What happened?’

Hannibal looked at him solemnly.

‘You were in an accident when you were driving for our appointment. The driver T-boned you and left. You had a blunt head trauma that left you in a coma for six days.’

Six days? It felt like ages.

‘What is the date?’

‘February, 22nd’

Will sat up, grabbing Hannibal by his lapels. He moved his lips close to his ear.

‘We must leave now’ he hissed. ‘I did something very bad, Hannibal, I was so wrong. You’ll be furious, and hurt, and I’m sorry, but you have to forgive me. Please. I forgive you. I understand now. I understand everything. Let’s escape tonight.’

Hannibal looked at him inexplicably, then held his hands on his lapels and slowly removed them.

‘I know what you did’ he said softly. ‘Or rather, what you didn’t do.’

Will could feel tears welling up in his eyes.

‘Please don’t’ he sobbed. ‘Not her… I was so stupid to deceive you, I was so stupid to deceive myself… Forgive me. I already forgave you.’

Hannibal’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.

‘I’ll go talk to the doctor and see when we can get you out of here’ he said standing up.

After much fussing from a maternal nurse, detailed instructions from the doctor and Hannibal’s declarations that he would take care of Will, he was released. Hannibal hung Will’s bag over his shoulder and circled his waist with his arm, supporting his weight. Will was still woozy from the trauma, but doctor said it would disappear within a week. Hannibal carefully seated Will in his car and drove them to his home, where with equal care he helped Will get on the couch and brought him a glass of water. Will drank it all and tugged on Hannibal’s hand when he came to took the empty glass back.

‘Please’ he said. ‘Please, Hannibal. I’m sorry’

Hannibal looked at him and said nothing, turning his back to him and busying himself with arranging some things on the table.

Will hesitantly got up.

‘I want it’ he said silently. ‘I want whatever you are willing to give to me. I didn’t think that you could change for me. And I didn’t think I could change for you. Accept who you are. Let them go. Beverly, Abigail, all these people. But now I know. And I’m sure.’

Hannibal turned swiftly, and delicately lifted his palm to his face, fingers touching his cheek and ear, holding his face in place and forcing him to look into maroon eyes.

‘Are you really sure?’

Will held his gaze, trembling, feeling naked, desperate and hopeful.

‘Yes’ he whispered.

Then the world tilted lightly as Hannibal almost swept him off his feet in a bruising hug. Will let himself melt into his arms, resting his chin on Hannibal’s shoulder and rubbing his stubbly cheek against Hannibal’s smooth one. He welt wetness on his face and on his shoulder, he realized that both him and Hannibal were crying. He took a deep breath, feeling Hannibal’s familiar scent fill his nostrils.

‘I’m not letting you go’ Hannibal said, his voice choked out and trembling. Will realized it was the first time Hannibal slipped from his way of speaking. He brought his hand to the man’s hair, letting himself feel silky strands, held in place by gel.

‘Don’t’ he said. ‘Not ever.’

\--

They left before the twilight, leaving dinner on the table for Jack and note for Alana. The drove side roads, speeding where they could. They were on the airport in no time. Will argued with Hannibal because the man insisted of carrying both of their suitcases. An old, married couple looked at them with fond smiles as they bickered. Finally they were on a plane. Will felt impossibly out of place with his shabby clothes in the first class. He buried himself deeper into his seat. Hannibal seemed to pick up on his distress; he leaned over and put his hand on his shoulder. Will blushed at the attention and saw Hannibal smirk.

‘How is your head, dear Will?’

‘Not bad, thank you’

A stewardess interrupted him then ‘Champagne?’

Hannibal politely treated Will to water first and then took a glass of champagne for himself. He clinked their glasses with a tiny smile.

‘Tell me we’ll be alright’ Will said, suddenly terrified. ‘That we’ll make it. I couldn’t, oh God, I don’t think I can afford to lose it… lose you now.’

Hannibal stroked his hand through Will’s curls, looked deep into his eyes.

‘You won’t. Everything would be well. I’ll take care of it, of you. Please don’t worry about it Will. Your only concern is to focus on your recovery.’

\--

They got off the plane and boarded another plane and Will fell asleep  and when he woke up, he had his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, was covered with his waistcoat and faced the light of a sunrise from his window. He heard an announcement that the plan was about to board.

Italy was a shock of bright colors and painfully white sunlight, sounds of street music and smells of tasty food. Hannibal hailed them a cab that took them out of the city and into a small white cottage right by the sea.

‘Well? Go on and come in’ Hannibal told him, smiling.

Will took a deep breath and twisted the knob.

A rush of furry bodies sprang out, the first one cognac colored. The dogs swarmed Will’s legs and began yelping excitedly. Will felt a rush of giddy happiness, he turned to Hannibal and jogged towards him, as much as the pack of the dogs around his legs allowed him. He enclosed the man in a hug, whispering ‘thank you’ into his ear. Hannibal just nodded, still holding their suitcases. ‘How did you even do it?’ Will marveled and Hannibal only smiled, looking at him. Then he looked at something behind him.

Will turned around to face pale, black haired girl who just came out of the house to stand on the porch, smiling at him.

\--

They had a dinner together and then came the awkward matter of sleeping arrangements. Trying to sleep in the room with Hannibal was jumping the gun. They were still officially friends, or rather now – partners in crime. None of them declared their romantic intent in a clear way. On the other hand, he didn’t want to appear ungrateful. Will swallowed heavily, letting himself be led into a room.

‘My bedroom is just on the other side of the corridor, so if you need anything, please just yell and I’ll come. I’ll leave my doors open. You mustn’t overexert yourself.’ Hannibal said, carrying his suitcase into the room. He asked Will if he needed any painkillers, help with unpacking, adjusting of the air conditioning or a golden egg Faberge. After Will’s assertions that he doesn’t need anything, Hannibal left, touching his shoulder lightly.

\--

Will lied on his side in the soft, white sheets, staring on the play of light on the floor. He should be happy. He should be gleaming. He should be asleep like a child, considering his busy day and that he finally got a peace of mind. Instead, he felt lonely and sad.

He was a fool. Hannibal did not want him, not in this way. How could he even think that. He know that Hannibal loved him, but it was only as a friend. A friend who saw what Hannibal truly was and yet wasn’t deterred. Hannibal was probably heterosexual. Maybe one day he would meet a woman. Abigail would grow up and move out and he’ll be left, always a third wheel, always unneeded and unloved. Desired only if someone could use him as they saw fit, and then disposed of like an empty candy-wrapper. Circus freak.

The sob made his way out of his throat without his consent, awfully loud sound in the quiet house. Will clapped his hand over his mouth, terrified, but it didn’t seem to help. This was the kind of sobs that just had to make their way out, something ugly and hurt clawing its way out of his chest. He couldn’t control the sounds he made; he sounded like a wounded animal.

The door to his room opened quietly. Please not him, he thought, please let it be Abby.

‘Will?’ Will sobbed louder when he heard the familiar way Hannibal said his name in so many different circumstances. The man put him through hell and yet Will dreamed of nothing more than to be with him. He didn’t want to be hurt anymore. He covered his face with his hands, so that Hannibal wouldn’t see how weak he was.

The bed dipped and Will’s heart made a painful lurch. He froze, like a prey before being crushed by a predator. He felt Hannibal’s fingers encircle his wrists and gently pry his hands out of his face. Will reluctantly looked at him, cringing at the thought at how must have he looked.

Hannibal was looking at him with an unreadable expression. His warm hands were still holding Will’s wrist, a source of comfort. Hannibal released one of his hands to smooth his hair from his forehead, then to cup his cheek.

‘Tell me Will’ Hannibal said, he sounded like he was… sad? ‘What has saddened you so?’

Will shook his head, signaling his inability to talk.

‘Is this not what you wanted? You regret your decision, perhaps.’

‘N-no!’ Will stammered out. ‘I don’t. It’s nothing, I just…it-it’s stupid’ sobs and gasps made him sound unintelligible.

‘What is something so stupid that got you into this state, hm?’ Hannibal asked patiently, taking his hand away from Will’s face. Will wanted to keep it.

‘I was just… lying here’ he whispered ‘thinking how nice it all is, and then I… felt lonely.’ He averted his eyes.

‘Well, I’m sorry but it seems that your dogs are rather fond of the living room’ Hannibal said, and Will snorted wetly. He forgot that Hannibal could make him laugh. He shook his head, letting the silence fall around them.

‘You miss Alana, don’t you’ Hannibal said seriously.

‘What? No, not… not her’ Will said before he remembered to bite his tongue.

Hannibal’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.

‘No? Who, then? Not Jack, I take it. His treatment of yours is something that falls under breach of human rights, I’m sure.’

Will laughed again and shook his head. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was now or never.

‘It’s you, okay’ he said. ‘Jesus, Hannibal, I’m so sorry, I’ll understand if you tell me to go, but I was just lying there, knowing that you’re in the next room, and it hurt me not to have you here. With me. Although you probably don’t want the same so…’ he realized he was blabbering so he shut up, swallowed and finally dared to open his eyes. Hannibal was looking straight through him, his eyes completely unreadable. Then, without a word, he gently got up and left the room, leaving the door open.

Will’s heart clenched painfully. At least now he knew. He hid his face in his hands again, then flopped on the bed, dejected and smashed his face into a pillow. And then he heard the door  click shut again.

He didn’t turn his head to look so it came as a surprise when a soft weight landed on his bed; he looked up just in time to see Hannibal dropping his pillow and comforter on his bed. His mouth went dry.

‘What… why?’ he choked out. Hannibal smiled at him as he approached him and started cleaning his face with hot wet washcloth. Will closed his eyes and let him clean his eyelids; Hannibal’s touch was so delicate with reverence and tenderness that another tears escaped them for entirely new reason. He felt touch of lips on one cheek and then the other; Hannibal was kissing his tears away. Will propped himself up and grabbed Hannibal’s bicep, signaling to him to get into bed.

Hannibal complied, climbing in and arranging the covers. He lied on his back and lifted one arm, inviting Will to snuggle under it. Will gladly scooted closer, putting his head on Hannibal’s chest and throwing his arm around his stomach. He closed his eyes, letting himself melt into the warm feeling of Hannibal’s one hand rubbing up and down his spine and the other caressing his head and cheek. He focused on Hannibal’s strong heartbeat under his ear. Lub-dub, lub-dub. Will’s own heart swelled as he felt another tear escape him, soaking quickly into the warm material of Hannibal’s nightwear.

‘Why aren’t you saying anything’ Will whispered.

One heartbeat. Two.

‘I’m afraid I’ll wake up.’ Hannibal said. He pressed kisses into Will’s hair. ‘Why are you crying.’

Will smiled slightly.

‘Same reason’ he said.

He wanted to bask in the moment, in the glory of it, but somehow sleep has stolen him and covered his senses with a thick black velvet curtain, again.

 

~ _fin_ ~

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I purposefully left the ending ambiguous. What was real? What was a coma induced dream? Did they get this happy ending they deserve? Why am I asking so many questions? Anyways, thank you for reading this, you magnificent beast. Yes, you.


End file.
